The door to the tavern swings open. A large dark woman steps up to the bar and orders a cider. "You know Folks with all the fussing and fuming going on, I think it might be time to tell a story. If only to remind us why we prevail through all the decomposing of the body politic." "So I'll tell you all the story of Barak VipersBane or The King That Really Did Save the Village." "Years ago there was a mighty King, Barak was his name and Lao his gracious Queen. A festival was held for 10 days in honor of the Christian St. Hildegard and Their Majesties attended for all of the days." "And so it was, one fine summer morning, the women of the village were felting and carding and spinning, the men had moved 100 yards up the road to put on their armour and practice martial skills, our children were playing in the dust of the path, as children are wont." An innocent voice called up to his mother, "Mama, look at the snake." Every Mama looked up and horrified, realized that "the snake" was a rattlesnake. The children were safely whisked out of the area of danger and being proper medieval women we looked to our men to protect us. (Being intelligent modern women----Hey, *they* had on armour). So we called to our husbands, brothers, friends, "Help!", we called, "Rattlesnake!, Help, snake!". They didn't respond to our calls, indeed we called many times. The viper slithered into the wild lilac thicket in front of a tent while we called out. Our men, hearing our call, wondered who among them was named Snake and what did the women want with the fighter named Snake. It took a bit before the true situation became clear to them. (It is said fighters get hit in the head, a lot). Once our need was clear, the ruckus of fighters were immediately at our side. The snake was hiding in the lilac thicket, and there was discussion to decide what was next, safe move would be. But one fighter, who had apparently been hit on the head more often than the rest, took his pole arm and beat about the bush. Causing the Viper to head directly for our Good King's foot. Barak, with all the skill of arms that made him King, with Dame Fortune smiling upon him, called upon the Sacred Kopros, and thus yelling, "Holy Shit", stove in the Viper's Head, with one blow. Being a loyal retainer I offered to skin and cook the Viper so our King might make a meal of him. But alas, even a King's courage can fail, and King Barak ate beef that night. Finishing her cider Baroness Kate orders another and a round for her freinds.